


Just the Right Token

by hardboiledbaby



Category: Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms, Sherlock Holmes (Downey films)
Genre: Community: watsons_woes, M/M, Pre-Canon, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-03
Updated: 2018-07-03
Packaged: 2019-06-01 18:35:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 379
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15149339
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hardboiledbaby/pseuds/hardboiledbaby
Summary: Watson had a problem: It was nearly Christmas, and he still did not have a gift for his flatmate.





	Just the Right Token

**Author's Note:**

> For the Watsons_Woes July Writing Prompts 2018 challenge on Dreamwidth; [Prompt #2](https://cdn.pixabay.com/photo/2018/04/22/21/31/flea-market-3342450_960_720.jpg) (link goes to a picture prompt)
> 
> This was feverishly pounded out at the last minute and is no doubt rife with errors, anachronisms, what have you. I throw myself upon the mercy of the fandom.

Watson paused outside the small curio shop and scanned the wares on a table with a jaded eye. Frankly, walking through the little street bazaar was probably futile, but he was a desperate man.

It was nearly Christmas, and he still did not have a gift for his flatmate. 

The problem was two-fold: first, he was rather low on funds; and second, he did not have the vaguest idea as to what Holmes might wish to receive. 

This would be their first Christmas together, and somehow it was very, very important that he find something suitable. He could not afford anything more extravagant than a token, really, but it needed to be just the _right_ token. One that conveyed his esteem for his new friend and his appreciation for the excitement that Holmes' cases brought to his life. Despite the detective's eccentric and sometimes maddening ways, Watson found himself liking and admiring the man more and more as the months went by. They were so different, and yet there was an undeniable kinship between them; an attraction, even. 

_The attraction of a moth that is drawn to the brilliance of a flame, and is consumed by it._

The unbidden thought was not a new one, but it was dangerous. It would only lead to other thoughts that Watson did not want to consider, to a conclusion he dared not entertain.

Watson shook his head and turned quickly. In his haste, he bumped up against the table and nearly upended the trinkets upon it. One item, a shoe, tipped over. Reflexively, he reached out and grabbed it before it fell. 

It was Oriental in style, colorful and decorated in beads and bright threads, with an upturned toe. 

"A galesh," the shopkeeper called out from behind his counter. "Persian slipper. D'you fancy it?"

"Where is its mate?" Watson asked, looking it over. It was, he had to admit, attractive in an exotic, almost mysterious way. 

"Only the one," the man replied. "More for decoration, like."

And somehow that—the fact that there was only one—made it _perfect_. Holmes, bless his Bohemian soul, would love it. 

"I'll give you a good price for it," the shopkeeper added hopefully.

Watson hid his grin as he headed into the shop, slipper in hand.


End file.
